Now this is a long story, so I am going to tell it in instalments. So make yourself a cup of tea, find somewhere comfy and settle in to hear a story of a special boy.
When my boy was born, to put it mildly, I was surprised. I was sort of expecting a girl. I knew nothing of little boys. I had no experience what so ever with little boys – I had only got involved with the male side of the species when I and they were of a legal age. 🙂
It didn’t really occur to me that it would be that much different, really it couldn’t be that hard.
In the first few weeks, every time I changed his nappy and his sleepsuit, all clean and dry, he would end up soaking wet ALL OVER within half an hour. This flummoxed me. And I didn’t have anyone really to ask. My mother had had 2 girls and my sister had 2 girls. I couldn’t figure it out. Then one day as I was changing his nappy, I noticed that wee was coming out the top, I had a little peak and noticed his willy was looking up at me. AH the penny dropped. So you must always ensure the willy is facing down when putting a nappy on. Now you might think this was a pretty common sense thing, but it never crossed my mind that I would need to be involved with the position of my little boys willy.
But you will be pleased to know that he has now got that under control himself. Thanks to his father’s generous example, he is now able to whip his hand in and re-position at any given opportunity. Well I think that is what both of them are doing – but who am I to question, it a mysterious world, the world of the willy.
Next thing that happened with my boy was that he wasn’t very good at putting on weight. He was always below the lowest percentile line. And being a very, very new mother, every weekly visit to the Health Clinic for weighing, became more and more traumatic. After 6 months, the midwives asked me to stop breastfeeding and to put him on a bottle. OH MY GOODNESS GOLLY GOSH, that was horrendously stressful. And do you know what, it didn’t make a slight bit of difference and he is still considered below the percentile and it is still brought up by the doctors. He does look like a skeleton with skin, but he eats meals three times as big as what I eat in the whole day. And both me and Hubby are not known for our heaviness. So when baby number 2 came along, the doctor at her 1 year check was surprised I had never got her weighed. I just knew I wasn’t going down that route again.
So as you have read in my previous posts, I am not a fan of lots of noise and like being quiet on my own. Well my boy and I had a quiet existence, and he and I didn’t really have much to say to each other in the first couple of years. So much so, he started talking late – but the first word was a doozie!! Not mummy, no nothing like that. It was Helicopter. Should have known I was in for an interesting journey from then on.
My boy hit Infant School, enthusiastically. He was happy to go and was muddling along just fine, then it all started going downhill. He was so quiet and timid and a good boy, that he sort of just got missed. He didn’t like colouring, drawing, painting or writing, but he could read and read and read and could construct amazing things out of anything and talk to you about the most bizarre and interesting things. But his writing was so poor, that it reflected on his grades and he never really made an impact in the class. He had also started to cry at the most silly things, all the time– bees, spiders and cucumber of all things. And not just little tears, curl up in the corner sobbing tears.
So after 3 years of infant school, I had an illiterate, slightly slow, underweight, timid, crying boy.
Well I was sure this was wrong, my little boy was funny, interesting, bright, caring and kind. I know all mothers think that, but I am sure the doctors, teachers and powers that be had got it wrong. So I went in to battle for him and we went to Junior School fighting our corner, which I shall tell you about in the next instalment, stay tuned for our gripping adventure…….